


Restful Death

by LittleMouse



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Language, M/M, M/M/M, Multiple Pov, Oral Sex, Smut, Some character bashing, memory of torture, mostly Vincent's though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMouse/pseuds/LittleMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone thinks Vincent is sleeping. But he's not. Everyone thinks Cloud will settle down.  But he doesn't. Everyone thinks Cid is happy. But he's bored. So he goes looking for Vincent.  Cloud goes looking for Cid.  Vincent goes looking for mirrors. This can't be a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another old story that I'm just polishing up to post here. It has 10 chapters and I am going to try not to do my usual forgetful act and get one up a day.

**Tir'd with all this, for restful death I cry:  
** As to behold desert a beggar born,   
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,  
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,   
And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd   
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,   
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,   
And strength by limping sway disabled,   
And art made tongue-tied by authority,   
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,   
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,   
And captive good attending captain ill-   
**Tir'd with all these, from these I would be gone,**  
**Save that, to die, I leave my love alone**.

~Shakespeare. Sonnet 66

 

 

 

The first thing he did when he got in the hotel room was take a towel and hang it over the mirror.

He kept his face carefully averted until this was done.

Afterwards, he felt a little more relaxed. Not much, but a little. He sat on the rickety-looking bed, moving cautiously as it creaked and groaned under his sleight weight. Once he was sure it wasn’t going to collapse, he set about removing his outer garments.

Red coat, spiked boots, the crimson strips of cloth that kept his hair out of his face.

When he finally stretched out on the bed, sighing, he was wearing only a black dress shirt and loose black leather pants; it was the most comfortable he’d felt since he’d woken from his coffin.

Since long years before he was put into his coffin.

He wondered what the others were doing.

Cloud would be with Tifa, if the girl got her way... Barrett gone back to the tiny girl he called his daughter... Shera had already claimed Cid... Yuffie had vanished and they all assumed she was headed back to Wutai, probably with half their possessions... Red would be back in Cosmo Canyon...

He was the only one with no place to go. With no one waiting for him to come home.

He knew what the others expected of him, now that all the danger seemed to be over. Knew exactly why there had been no offers of a place to stay or something to do - beyond the fact of his strange appearance.

They expected him to go back to sleep.

Probably thought it would be for the best, that he would be content with that. That it was what he wanted.

They had no idea of how his skin crawled at the thought of climbing back into that box.

He wouldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_ do it.

Not yet. He would save it as a last-ditch option, a retreat for when life became unbearable.

He already knew he couldn’t commit suicide. He’d tried three times, when he was safely away from the others. Tried slitting his one remaining wrist, watched as the cut dribbled blood and then sealed. Tried swallowing pills, only to go all night without feeling a single effect.

Tried shooting himself through the chest.

He didn’t ever want to watch that again - a person should never see their own heart pumping blood even as the hole in it closed and vanished. It had frightened him, when he thought there was nothing left in the world that he would fear.

Damn Hojo, anyway, and his experiments! He wondered if the bastard knew he’d condemned him to an eternity of torment?

Probably. Didn’t care, either. Thought it was funny.

Vincent didn’t see anything amusing about it.

He’d contemplated shooting himself through the head, but there were faults in that plan. What if his brain healed, like his heart had, but left him without a memory? The idea had seemed a blessing, until he thought of the damage he could do to people if he didn’t know how to control his strengths, how to keep Chaos down. He couldn’t risk it.

He heaved another sigh. So what was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t die, and he didn’t know how to live.

The last tenant of the room had left a newspaper on the battered chest of drawers - he picked it up and started reading it. He had nothing else to do, and it would take his mind off of his sorrows for a little while.

A little while was better than nothing.

He read for about ten minutes, skimming past stories of the battles so recently fought, reading about scientists studying the LifeStream, reading predictions about the economy and nearly smiling over the trite problems in the ‘agony’ column.

When he reached the help-wanted ads he read them, for lack of anything else _left_ to read. Halfway down the second column he came across an ad that made him lift his eyebrows.

He read it again.

Well... _that_ was something he could do.

 

 

********(( Rocket Town ))********

 

 

Cid Highwind was bored.

Utterly and completely bored.

Saving the planet had been fun. Dangerous, but fun. The time he planned to go into space was fun. Shera had stopped him, of course, and she’d been right about the mechanical problems with his rocket, but it had still been fun. The planning, the building, the dreaming...

Now everything was just dull. Boring.

Shera was boring. Nice girl, really, everyone said so. And she loved him. Told him so every day, even if he never said it back. Offered herself to him with marriage, without marriage, any way he wanted. Some men would have killed for a woman like her.

Cid thought it was... well, boring.

No, wait, not boring, Boring. Capital ‘B’.

He didn’t want some woman throwing herself at him. He wanted to chase her, to at least have a bit of anticipation about whether she’d say yes or no, to have some mystery to uncover. He’d even seen Shera without her clothes on already. She’d told him her hot water heater was broken, came to his house to shower, and he was fairly certain that forgetting to close the bathroom door had been intentional. Probably expected him to be overwhelmed with passion and take her right there on the floor.

It had been too obviously planned - though he had to admit that Shera nude was quite a pretty sight. But he wasn’t born yesterday, and he wasn’t going to get suckered into something he didn’t want, just for some quick physical relief. He’d deliberately pretended not to see; not to hear the heartfelt sighs.

It was all just so _boring._

He wondered what the others were doing? Cloud was with Tifa, though a mutinous look in the blond’s eyes made him wonder if the boy would stay there. Cloud still had issues over Aeris and Tifa was going to have to deal with that. What she needed to do was let the boy go, let him sort out what was going on under than spiky hair. Cid was fairly sure that Cloud would go back to Tifa after a while, and just as sure that Tifa would never let him go in the first place.

And no way would she take any advice from _him._ She’d laugh her pretty head off.

Barrett - ah, he didn’t care what Barrett was doing. Babysitting, probably. Cute kid, Marlene, but Cid had no interest in being referred to as an ‘uncle’, the way the tiny girl had begun to refer to Cloud.

And no way was he going to look for Yuffie. Good riddance! Klepto ninja...

Vincent...

A sudden picture filled his mind, all long black hair and swirling red cloak, the beautiful face more hidden than revealed. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen _all_ of Vincent’s face for longer than a split second.

Cloud and the others had whispered that Vincent would go back to his coffin. Cid wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he had made no protests when Shera had come to take him back to Rocket Town. If that was what Vincent wanted, then he deserved to be allowed to sleep. He’d fought just as hard - harder, maybe - as the rest of them. And before that had suffered through a nightmare Cid knew he couldn’t imagine.

He just hoped the man’s sleep was peaceful.

Shame, really that something like Vincent would be wasted, spending eternity moldering in that coffin. There weren’t enough beautiful things left on the Planet for one to go unseen.

Cid sat up a little straighter in his chair. Could he talk Vincent out of sleeping for the next millennia? Or would the Death Penalty blast him into oblivion if he even suggested it? From what Tifa had told them, the man was hell-bent on sleeping past the end of the world.

He wondered why Vincent had told Tifa that? He would never have expected the man to confide in that girl - she had starting giving the gunman the cold shoulder as the final battle approached.

She’d probably noticed the way Cloud had been watching him.

So what? Everyone watched Vincent - it wasn’t like you could ignore him. He was freaking beautiful, from raven hair to the slim body hidden by that cloak, to the exotic gleam of gold on his clawed hand. Cid himself had spent several pleasant hours watching him - hell, _Tifa_ had spend a good amount of time watching him.

And it wasn’t like Cloud had been panting after the man. He’d admired something lovely like the rest of them, but he’d still been stunned by Aeris' loss and it would take the boy time to get past the death of the flower girl.

But thinking this over had started Cid wondering. Was Tifa really telling the truth when she told them Vincent had said he was going back to his coffin? At the time, no one had questioned her.

No one had asked Vincent, either, not wanting to add to the burden of sadness the man seemed to carry.

Cid sometimes wanted to smack him out of that constant state of depression. So he’d loved a woman and she died. She’d belonged to someone else in the first place, hadn’t she? Though, he had to cut Vince some slack - the man had gone through hell after Lucretia had died - it was no wonder he’d become fixated on her. Having an angel to remember could get you through some really hard times. Cid used his own memories of his mother to make it through a less-than-stellar childhood. Though that didn’t compare to Vince’s suffering, he felt he could understand the man a bit better than the others. It made him feel closer to the quiet ex-Turk.

And the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of Vincent Valentine sleeping his life away in a musty old coffin.

A coffin he should never have been in, in the first place.

‘Maybe,’ he thought, scrambling to his feet, ‘maybe I should do something about it.’

It would certainly keep him from being bored.

 

 

*

 

 

"Where are you going?"

Cid winced as he heard Shera’s soft voice behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He was busily loading up the _Highwind_ , making sure he had plenty of supplies, checking that the _Tiny Bronco_ was secure.

"Gotta find a friend of mine," he muttered, trying to ignore her as she moved closer. Why couldn’t the woman take ‘no’ for an answer?

Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

"Are you... going to look for the little girl from Wutai?"

Someone else might have missed the way she emphasized ‘little girl’, but not Cid.

He scowled at her not-so-subtle innuendo that Yuffie was too young for him, at the fact that she was questioning him, and the idea that he’d be going _anywhere_  after Klepto-Ninja.

"No, I ain’t goin’ after Yuffie. Think I’m crazy?! Kid’d steal the fillings outta yer teeth!"

"Then... where are you going? Are you... is there a problem with Cloud and Tifa? Is something wrong?"

"Naw, they’re fine. Outta the plane, Shera. I’m ready to take off."

"But, Cid, where are you going?" She nearly wailed the words and he cringed.

Damn woman - wish she’d stop acting like his wife when he’d never so much as smiled at her.

"Toldja. Gotta find a friend. Get outta the plane, dammit!"

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him that way, Shera started backing toward the hatch. "When will you be back?" she asked, hoping to learn a little more with a different question.

Cid shrugged. "Few days. Few weeks. Depends on how quick I find him."

Oh.

Him.

‘Well,’ Shera thought, ‘that’s a relief. I thought he was going after Tifa or that little Ninja girl. So this really is about a friend...’ "Good-bye, then, Cid. Be careful." She finally left.

"Yeah, yeah." Cid muttered, forgetting her as soon as she was out of sight, and sent the _Highwind_ zooming down the runway and into the air. He didn’t look back, and wouldn’t have cared if he _had_ seen Shera waving goodbye on the tarmac.

"Goodbye, Cid!" she shouted the words even though she knew he couldn’t hear them, then turned to walk to her lonely house. She smiled as she went. Cid had been so bored lately, she’d despaired of keeping him close. Finding one of his buddies should cheer him up no end; she hoped he’d bring him here to keep him busy. Men needed other men to chat with, after all.

She had nothing to worry about.  
  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent took careful aim along the gun site, watching as the group of people below him milled around the campfire, laughing and talking. They were a tourist group, out of Costa del Sol, on a trip to see ‘famous sites of the last Battles.’

In other words, they were idiots.

These places were dangerous.

Very dangerous.

He held his breath for a long, gentle second, then relaxed and squeezed the trigger.

Death Penalty roared, and a crouching beast on the far side of the campsite exploded in a mess of blood and fur.

The tourists screamed and darted around and Vincent rolled his eyes.

Really, they were _idiots!_ Anyone who looked could see the remains of that beastie, there was no sense it acting like they were under attack! He stood, slung the gun over his shoulder, and started drifting down off the hillside.

Even with the downside of protecting idiots, this was a good job. For him, anyway. It wasn’t like he was leading the group; he’d been hired to protect it from the Mako-infested creatures that roamed these canyons. He got a pretty bounty for each one he shot, and mediocre wages for tagging along after the group, making sure nothing and no one attacked them.

There were bandits in these hills, too.

More idiots - why would anyone _willingly_ live among these deadly creatures?

He didn’t have a problem, of course. He was far more deadly than any of the monsters he hunted.

More of a freak, too, but he kept out of sight, so that wasn’t a problem. The people he protected knew he was there, they’d been told he was there - but they rarely caught a glimpse of him and that was the way he liked it.

He’d been forced to abandon the red cloak while working - it showed up too brightly against the barren wasteland of these canyons. He’d spent the few gil he had before he took the job on a long, greyish-brown coat instead, used strips cut from the hem to tie back his hair. Now he blended in with the darkness, invisible unless he wanted someone to see him.

He hadn’t wanted that, yet.

He reached the deceased Mako-beast and knelt, looking it over for a convincing trophy to turn in at the bounty office. It looked like a very large dog, all snarling teeth and claws, Mako eyes still glowing green even in death. Its head was too big to carry around - this trip had three days to go - but one of the feet with the six-inch bladed claws would work very well. He used his own claws to slice it neatly off, then scrubbed the blood away in the sand. Unslinging a small, padded box from over his shoulder, he packed it away in dry ice along with half a dozen other gruesome trophies.

"Val! Val, was that you?" The guide of the little tourist group, an obnoxiously cheerful man named Sam, called out from the flickering firelight. Vincent, knowing full well that his name was on the list as a ‘war hero’ - pppft! - had shortened it to ‘Val, just Val’ when he signed up for the job.

"Yes," he said quietly, knowing his voice would carry in the sudden stillness. Sam must have got the idiots to shut up.

"Good." The tour guide moved closer, peering at the carcass in the dark. "Oh, hey, that’s a big ‘un! Gonna be a rich man, Val, you keep this up!"

"Sam?! Is that our mysterious protector?" A feminine voice called from the campsite. "Do bring him in so we can finally meet him!"

Sam peered questioningly at Vincent, who had very nearly flinched. "Wanna go in? Got some pretty females on this trip." He leered slightly.

Vincent shook his head. "There could be more of them - I need to circle the camp, make sure."

"Oh, right. Yeah, do that. Don’t want no problems like Guthrie’s Classic Tours had. Moron didn’t hire nobody to watch, had three tourist eaten first trip out." He shook his head and started moving back toward the camp, calling out an answer to the inquiring voices.

Vincent sighed with relief and slid back into the darkness.

 

 

*

 

 

Cid Highwind grinned down at the empty coffin.

He _knew_ Tifa was a liar.

Despite the fact that it had taken him days to find the hidden chamber, he was completely pleased that Vincent wasn’t inside this box. The thought of anyone - but especially Vince - sleeping for eternity made him sick to his stomach.

Of course, now he had to search all over the Planet to find a certain red-cloaked gunman - but it was better than dragging him out of this coffin and trying to convince him not to crawl back in. He glared down at the metal rectangle for a moment, wondering if he should just destroy it and be done?

No - there was always the future chance that Vincent would freak out and try to get back into this place. As long as the coffin was here, Cid would know where to come looking first.

Speaking of looking... He’d start with Midgar II, move on to Costa del Sol...

Cid left the crypt and moved back up the stairs, mentally listing the cities he would search. The Planet wasn’t _that_ big. Vince had to be somewhere. Wouldn’t be easy for someone with his looks to hide. Even if people forgot he was beautiful, there was always the ruby eyes and the golden claw. Vincent might hate those features, but they didn’t bother Cid.

And they were sure going to come in handy, now.

 

 

*

 

 

Cid left the ShinRa mansion and went back to the _Highwind_. He’d been able to park it nearby - the entire place was deserted. He didn’t blame people - it was creepy here even in bright daylight.

The communications console next to the Pilot’s chair was flashing a frantic red light. He frowned and pressed a button, wondering who would be sending him a message? Most people had no idea he’d left Rocket Town.

<< Cid! >> Shera’s voice filled the cabin and he scowled, almost hitting the ‘delete’ button without listening to what she had to say. Ah, well, maybe he should let it play. Once. It might be about business.

<< Cid, you need to call me! Your friend Cloud came by looking for you, and as soon as he left, that girl Tifa came by looking for _him._ What’s going on, I thought he was the friend you were going to help? Is there something else going on? Are you in some sort of trouble? You know you can always depend on me to... >>

Cid growled and hit the delete button. Annoying woman - like she could help him out of the kind of trouble he usually got into! And the whine that had entered her voice during those last sentences had set his teeth on edge. If she’d been here, he might very well have hit her. He’d never struck a woman in his life, but Shera was jumping up and down on his last nerve. Had been for the past two weeks. He’d had enough of her constant hovering behind his right elbow, the badly-cooked meals she prepared, the half-assed seduction attempts she kept trying.

Why couldn’t she find some nice boring guy who wanted a nice boring wife and settle down? And stop chasing after him when he’d made it clear - to everyone _else_ in Rocket Town, at least - that he wasn’t interested.

Never had been, never would be.

People had gone from avidly watching what might become a romance, to feeling sorry for Shera, to shaking their heads sadly when they saw her heading for his house. Some of them had started making gentle fun of her - Shera only stared at them, with not a clue what the teasing was for.

He was going to stop thinking about Shera now. He was gripping the armrests so hard they were creaking.

He had a friend to find - maybe two friends.

What was up with Cloud?

 

 

*

 

 

A motorcycle pulled up at the ShinRa mansion about five minutes after the _Highwind_ had lifted off. The rider pushed his goggles back into his spiky blond hair and stared at the patterns in the dust.

The big plane had definitely been here.

Beautiful blue eyes, glowing slightly with Mako energy, lifted to look at the mansion. Had Cid found Vincent, taken him away?

There was only one way to find out. He got off the bike and went inside.

 

 

*

 

 

Vincent reached the little shack he called home now and felt relieved. Another tour over, a nice bounty collected, and three days to spend as he wished before the next tour started. Sam had asked him if he wanted to come into town and celebrate with the other guides, all of them ready to blow their earnings on whiskey and women. Vincent had carefully worded his refusal, made it sound like he had pressing business when really all he had to do was turn in his trophies for the gil.

The tiny house he’d found was about a ten minute walk outside Costa del Sol, but it might as well have been in the middle of nowhere. Thanks to a nicely situated hill, you couldn’t see anything of the city except for a glow in the sky late at night. Vincent, who’d always valued his privacy and did so even more now, liked the place very much.

The shack had taken some work - he’d been able to get it at a ridiculously low rental price because of that, but a weekend with a hammer and a stack of boards bought at the local lumberyard had fixed it up nice enough for him. He didn’t require anything fancy. Just a roof that didn’t leak, a bed to sleep in, and someplace to wash up. The shack had contained a cot and a rusty old stove - he’d bought blankets and stove black and that was very nearly all.

It was more than enough.

He put away his earnings in their hiding place and stretched out on the doorstep, since the cabin didn’t have a chair. The sun was just setting, lighting up the small hills and valleys with shades of purple and red.

It was nice, just sitting here, watching. No battles, no enemies sneaking up on him, no scientists with needles and dark coffins.

Just air, and soft light, soothing balm to his rumpled soul. On evenings like this, even the Chaos that tormented him inside was quiet, still. He rarely even thought of Lucretia - she’d been his sole focus while in the coffin, but outside of it his memories of her were growing dim.

Perhaps if she’d loved him, in return, he wouldn’t allow her to slip away. But she hadn’t, she’d loved her work, and perhaps even Hojo, and treated the love he offered like it was some childish crush.

And he wondered, sometimes, if she hadn’t known what Hojo planned to do to him...

No. Lucretia might have been fixated on her research, to the point of allowing Hojo to impregnate her with an experiment, but she’d been a kind, caring woman and she would never agree to... to...

He shuddered, and forced his mind away.

He had to go back to the city tomorrow, pick up some supplies. It had been too late to get them by the time he collected his wages. All the stores had been closed, leaving only the bars open. He had no desire to visit them. He needed a stash of food put back for the days the weather was bad, needed a few extra shirts and another blanket wouldn’t hurt. And the stove kept smoking a little no matter what he did to it; he was fairly certain that it needed a new stovepipe.

He kept thinking over his list until the last of the shuddering faded away.

 

 

*

 

 

The shopping took longer than he had intended - he’d left for town at noon and it was approaching dark when he got back to the shack.

There was something different about it - his sense went on high alert. He set the crate of supplies down carefully and slung Death Penalty off his shoulder. He used his foot to push the door open - _that’s_ what was different, it had been unlatched and open a crack - and then swung inside, gun ready.

A familiar form was sprawled over his cot, with a familiar grin on his face, and a _very_ familiar voice called out mockingly, "Hey, _Val,_ long time, no see!"   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure I got the city names right but I’m too lazy to look them up right now.


	3. Chapter 3

Vincent sighed and lowered the gun. "Cid... what are you doing here?"

"Hunting for you, Val."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to." The blond man got to his feet and walked over to him, taking the gun out of his hand and laying it on the cot. "You’re not all that easy to find, you know that? ‘Course, we all thought you were back in that coffin."

"I don’t want to sleep," was all Vincent offered in reply, not moving away from the door.

"Don’t blame you. That coffin gives me the creeps, anyway."

Vincent’s ruby eyes narrowed slightly. "When did you see it?"

"When I went looking for you, of course."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Because I was bored." Cid reached out and gently tugged Vincent’s long hair, getting an astonished look from the red eyes in return. "Come and sit down and talk to me."

Oh, no, he was _not_ sitting next to Cid on that cot. For the first time he regretted the lack of chairs in his little house; he had no desire to get close to anyone and Cid had never made any secret of the fact that he had no real preference as to the gender of his sexual partner.

Then again, there was no way Cid would be interested in _him -_  he had yet to scrape up the courage to look in a mirror, but the memories of Hojo’s lab, with chemicals burning in his veins and acid dripping on his skin assured him that the reflection he saw would be less than attractive. All that pain and torture had to have left him horrendously scarred. He still remembered the scalpel biting into the flesh of his face as Hojo tested how long it took his body to heal small cuts.

Still, he didn’t want to be so close to the man. Cid wasn’t exactly unattractive and the sparkle of life in his blue eyes appealed to him strongly.

There was no way he was going to suffer through unrequited love again.

He pulled away from Cid’s tugging hand. "We can sit outside."

"All right, Val, whatever you want."

"And stop calling me that."

"Why? I like it, it’s cute."

Vincent sighed.

 

 

*

 

 

Cloud ducked into an alley, and pressed tight to the grimy wall. He counted to three, slowly, then took a quick peek.

"Damn!" he hissed, shrinking back before his pursuers could spot him.

What was _Tifa_ doing here? And with Shera in tow - there was no mistaking Cid’s little stalker, with her ponytail and glasses.

So what did he do, now? He had given up on trying to find Vincent on his own, and started following Cid, instead. The man had resources that weren’t available to him - an entire network of information and friends that Cloud could only imagine. He was sure to find Vincent; Cloud had planned on just following along until he did.

Now it was getting complicated.

He’d seen the empty coffin. At first, he’d wondered if Cid had found Vincent in it and just carried him out, but then he’d noticed the spiderwebs still in the coffin’s depths, and the fact that the lid was laying exactly as he’d left it when he’d freed Vincent the first time.

Vincent had never come back to that coffin.

Therefore, Tifa had lied to him.

Why?

Well, he wasn’t going to wait around and ask. The girl had been driving him crazy over the last few days; for years she had rejected an attempt he made to gain her affections. Then Aeris had appeared in his life and he’d found someone who might someday be willing to stay with him.

But she had died.

And now suddenly Tifa was all over him, talking love and marriage and children while he blinked at her in stunned surprise. She’d always acted like he had a childish crush on her - which in retrospect he had realized that was exactly what it was - and told him to ‘get over it.’

Now he had gotten over it, and she had done a complete about-face and acted like he was the love of her life.

Cloud just didn’t understand women.

And he wasn’t real sure he wanted to.

He needed to talk to Vincent. He _had_ to talk to Vincent.

But first, he had to get out of this alley without those two seeing him.

 

 

*

 

 

Vincent had sat, rather stiffly, on the edge of the step and waited for Cid to start talking.

He waited...

...and waited.

Finally, "I thought you wanted to talk?"

Cid yawned from where he sat, sprawled all over the step, legs stretched out in front of him and one shoulder _almost_ touching Vincent’s side. "Nah, this is good. Kinda sleepy, ya know? Been hunting ya for a while."

"Why?"

"Toldja. Bored." Cid yawned again and stretched, deliberately brushing his hand against Vincent’s thigh. The gunman started slightly and shifted away, so he’d definitely noticed the slight touch.

Cid grinned.

Vincent was a lot more fun than Shera.

"So..." Cid wasn’t able to keep from talking, even as sleepy as he was getting. "Took a job watching over screwball tourists, huh? Good money?"

"Fair," Vincent said slowly, trying to accustom himself to the fact that Cid was making casual conversation. Whenever he’d spoken to the pilot before, it had always been about business, about what was needed for this trip or that battle. Short and to the point. He wasn’t sure he understood the sudden drastic change, and was even less sure that he liked it.

"Like it?"

"Like what?"

"The job, Val."

"Not particularly." Why should he lie? The truth was that he found the tourists annoying on the rare occasions that he had to deal with them, and the guides talked of nothing but alcohol and gambling and which of the female tourists had the most attractive bodies.

Vincent had never cared much for such inane conversation and pursuits when he’d been a Turk; his tolerance for them now was pretty much nil.

"Good." Cid purred the word more than he spoke it, and shifted until he was practically laying on the broad stone step. The rays of the late afternoon sun were warm and soothing and Vincent found himself nodding slightly, too.

"So, you interested in changing careers?" The words came after several minutes of silence, drawled in a warm, rich tone.

"Hm?" Vincent’s eyes had nearly closed and he didn’t particularly care to struggle them back open.

"Used to be a pilot, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Could do that again. Need a courier pilot, for _Tiny Bronco._ "

"I haven’t flown in more than thirty years. You could as well ask a chocobo to ride a motorcycle."

Cid snorted with laughter, shifting and sitting up. "Brushing up wouldn’t be that hard. C’mon, it’d be better than running around babysitting tourists, wouldn’t it?"

"Maybe."

"So think it over." Cid shifted yet again, bringing his shoulder in contact with Vincent’s - a warm and steady pressure. "Pay you better than what you’re making here."

Vincent’s sleepy brain suddenly processed the fact that Cid was offering him a job. Ruby eyes opened wide and he stared at the other man. "You can’t be serious."

"Why not? Watched you for a while, know what kinda man you are."

"A freak who spends most of the time obsessing over the past?" Vincent’s words were brutally honest; he had no illusions about himself.

"Naw. Good man in a tight spot." A strong hand reached up to brush back the strands of hair falling over Vincent’s face, and he was too surprised to dodge away from it. "And nice to look at."

"Nice to..." Vincent trailed off, speechless.

"Real nice. Don’t you ever look in mirrors?" Cid’s fingers drifted down to touch Vincent’s cheek briefly, then he pulled back his hand and got to his feet. He stretched, flexing his entire body, and Vincent watched, helpless to pull his eyes away. Cid noticed, of course, and didn’t even try to hide his smirk. "Gotta head back to town; gotta room at some crappy inn. Know where that little place is, down the street from the airstrip? Forget its name..."

"Oaks Inn?"

"That’s the one. I’ll be there tonight; think it over and let me know in the morning, huh?" He glared at Vincent and shook his finger in warning. "And no running away. I’ll just track you down again."

Vincent blinked at him.

Cid laughed and started back for town, strolling along like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Vincent sat gazing after him, still rather stunned.

Nice to look at?!

Maybe he should brave the mirror, after all... if Hojo hadn’t left him scarred and deformed, he wanted to know about it!

But... if he hadn’t... what were all the stares about?

 

 

*

 

 

Cid was heading down the last block before reaching the end when a hard body slammed into his, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He reacted violently, of course, twisting and trying to slam his fists against his attacker.

"Cid - Cid! Stop! It’s me, Cloud!" The young voice sounded panicked and Cid did stop trying to hit him.

"Cloud?! The _hell_ are you doing?!"

The young man didn’t let go of him. "You got a place to get out of sight? Quick, man, quick!"

Cloud didn’t have to ask twice; Cid nearly tucked him under his arm and ran for the inn. If Cloud Strife was this worried about something, it _had_ to be bad. His room was on the second floor and had an outside door. Cid unlocked it and shoved the younger man inside, following close on his heels.

Cloud went straight for the window, peeking around the edge of the blind. Cid followed him, just tall enough to peer over the top of his spiky hair.

His eyes widened as two pretty brunettes came dashing down the street, obviously searching for someone. They looked very intense, faces set with determination. The taller one stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared around. She gestured for the other to head for the bar across the street, then she dove into one of the many gambling casinos.

Tifa. And Shera.

They had joined forces!

He had been right. What Cloud was worried about was very bad, indeed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"So, why are you here?" Cid asked, maneuvering the words around a mouthful of sandwich.

They were trapped in the hotel room - Shera and Tifa kept going up and down the streets outside, though they didn’t seem to have discovered where they were staying yet - and he and Cloud had been forced to order room service when hunger attacked them.

"‘M wkng fo Vnshn," Cloud replied.

Cid stared at him.

Cloud swallowed. "I’m looking for Vincent. I thought you might be, too, since you were at the mansion. I thought if I followed you, it would be easier to find him. You have a lot more resources than I do."

"Oh," Cid wasn’t sure what to say. Should he tell the kid he’d found the gunman, or not?

"So - do you know where he is?"

Cid gave a non-committal grunt. "Why’re ya lookin’ for him?"

Cloud looked slightly uncomfortable. "I just - I need to talk to him."

"‘Bout what?" Cid asked, taking another large bite of his sandwich.

Cloud’s uncomfortable look became an embarrassed flush. "It’s - well, something Tifa said."

Cid waited, chewing complacently. The kid would spit it out eventually. He just needed time.

"She - she asked why I didn’t watch her. She - I didn’t know what she meant. Then she said I watched Aeris all the time... and I guess I did. But Aeris - she was special, you know?"

Cid nodded, then stared at Cloud’s next words.

"I always wanted a sister. Aeris was... she was... I thought I loved her, you know, like a girlfriend, but... well, she was so wise, but she was innocent, too. She kissed my cheek once - it was like getting a kiss from Marlene. Sweet, and nice, but that was about all. And then she died. I know everyone thinks I was nuts over her... and I _was_... but..." he trailed off, eyeing Cid uncertainly.

Cid fought to regain his self-control. "Okay - I get it. I guess I thought you were head over heels for her, too. But - what’s that got to do with Vincent?"

Cloud blushed again. "Well... I told Tifa I only thought of Aeris as a sister, so she said, ‘And I suppose Vincent is your long-lost brother?’"

Cid snickered.

Cloud glared at him. "So, I didn’t get it at first, and she got kinda mad. She said I watched him even more than I watched Aeris. I thought about it for awhile... and she’s right. I did. And... and..."

"And you weren’t thinking very brotherly thoughts, right?" Cid teased, grinning broadly.

Cloud went from being pink-cheeked to turning dark red.

"S’all right, kid - I know exactly what you mean," Cid finally had pity on the flustered young man.

"You, too?!" Cloud asked, obviously surprised. "But, I thought you and Shera..."

"The only one who thinks that is Shera," Cid growled.

"Oh." Cloud was silent for a long moment. "So... you want Vincent?"

"Yup!" Cid said cheerfully, reaching for another sandwich.

"Oh." Cloud went quiet again, then, "So, do you know where he is?"

"Yup!"

"...will you tell me?"

"Yup!"

Cloud blinked, obviously surprised. "You will?! But I thought you said _you_ wanted him!"

"Oh, I do."

"Then ...you don’t think I have a chance?" Cloud’s expression was a mixture of puzzlement, anger, and sadness.

"Oh, you’ve got a chance. You’re a good-lookin’ kid; you’re a great fighter, and fightin’ men respect that; and you can relate, ‘cause you been through a lot of the same shit he has, what with Hojo and the Mako and all that."

Cloud was staring at him. "Then, I don’t understand why you would risk telling me where he is!"

"Well, kid, you tell me - do you think _I_ have a chance?"

"Of course!" Cloud said, still vastly confused. "You’re good-looking, too, and a good fighter, you’ve got a place to live and a way to make money, and people appreciate security." He grinned. "Besides, _everyone_ knows you don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. _Vincent_ is the one who doesn’t have a chance!"

"You’ve got that right," Cid said, smiling evilly, "and neither do you!"

"Huh?" was Cloud’s brilliant response, a second before he was tackled.

 

 

*

 

 

It was long past dark, but Vincent was still sitting on his front steps. He was gazing at the vast array of stars, but he didn’t really see them.

He was having a serious internal debate.

About mirrors.

Specifically, about himself looking _into_ mirrors.

And if he should, or not.

He didn’t want to - every time he got up to go and retrieve the bathroom mirror out of the tiny closet where he had hidden it, he would remember the burn of chemicals or the bite of a scalpel and sit back down again.

Yet Cid’s words kept floating through his head.

‘...nice to look at...’

The man _had_ to be insane.

Even if Hojo’s experiments hadn’t scarred him too badly, he had never been anything to write home about.

He remembered himself form long before, a young Turk assigned to the ShinRa mansion to guard two scientists. He remembered his reflection then, the neatly-trimmed black hair around a pale, serious face. A face too thin to really be attractive, all bony angles. Dark eyes, to match his hair, a lean young body well-muscled by training but not very noteworthy among his bigger, bulkier comrades. Tall, slightly gangling still, with the awkwardness of youth.

That was what he remembered.

He gazed down at his hands, studying the dull gleam of the bronze claw and the eerie, almost glowing white skin of his other hand. It looked more frail than he remembered - the fingers were long and slender and the bones of his wrist showed in delicate relief.

The hand looked like it could easily break, yet he knew he was much stronger than he had ever been before.

Wait...

A memory flared into his mind - his arm strapped to a table, his other arm and his legs weighted down so he couldn’t escape, Hojo muttering about burn resistance as he broiled the back of Vincent’s hand with a blowtorch. He remembered screaming in agony as his flesh bubbled and sizzled, until the pain made him black out.

Even now, the memory made him nauseous - he would never forget the hideous smell of his own hand cooking.

Yet the hand he gazed at tonight was as smooth and whole as if he’d never used it.

He didn’t remember getting up, but he was suddenly on his feet and going inside, stripping off his coat and shirt as he went.

Nothing.

Not one scar.

Not even the ones he’d had _before_ Hojo had experimented on him.

He ran his fingers over his ribs, staring at the perfect, smooth skin on his right side, where he’d carried knife scars from a fight since he was twelve years old. And the bullet scar on his arm, gotten on his first mission as a Turk - gone.

No acid burns, no scalpel marks.

No sign that he’d ever been in that basement at all.

His hands shook as he unfastened his belts and his pants and kicked them off, and they were trembling violently as he skimmed his fingertips over clear, unblemished white skin.

Memories were still assaulting him; Hojo cutting a ragged gash in one leg with a dirty knife, watching as Vincent’s body raged with fever, fighting against the infection the scientist had purposefully given him.

Glass shards in his other leg, watching in horror as his body forced them out, Hojo’s gleeful face as he scribbled notes in a file.

In a room with some Mako-beast, weaponless and defenseless as the monster clawed at him, seeing the white gleam of his thigh bone through the tattered flesh of his leg, before Hojo had shot the beast to keep it from finishing the job.

Nothing - his legs were as unscarred as a sheltered child’s.

His knees hit the floor and he sat there limply, staring straight ahead as his mind tried to process this.

Ever since Cloud had opened his coffin and stood staring at him, he’d been hiding. Using his cloak and his hair to shield himself from anyone who wanted to stare -

\- and _everyone_ had seemed to stare.

Had he just been paranoid? Maybe all those looks he’d thought he’d seen had been his imagination?

Or, maybe, Hojo had changed his face into something hideous - he’d done enough surgeries on him while Vincent had been unconscious - he hadn’t even been aware of the addition of the claw until he woke up and saw it...

‘...nice to look at...’

There was one way to find out.

...and he suddenly had to know...

He crawled slowly toward the shack’s only little closet, where the mirror was waiting.

Swallowing his fear.

Ignoring the shaking.

He _had_ to know.  
  
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, that was interesting..." Cloud said softly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Interesting?" Cid’s voice was an indignant yelp. " _Interesting_?!"

"Interesting, as in very fun, unexpected, awesomely interesting!" Cloud hurried to add.

Cid relaxed back down onto his pillow. "Oh."

They lay there in contented silence for a moment, Cid’s arm around Cloud while the smaller man rested his head against his shoulder.

"So... what happens now?"

"Well," Cid drawled, his voice suddenly thick with mischief, "I want ya ta think about what we just did, okay? Sorta picture it in yer head."

"Okay..."

"Got it?"

"Yeah," Cloud sounded slightly breathless, and Cid’s grin broadened.

"Now - picture Vincent."

"...okay."

"Exactly how he looks, and how he moves, and the way those eyes just glow at you..."

"...o-okay..."

"Got him?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, put the two pictures together."

Silence.

Then a very faint moan.

"Oh - you are _evil_."

"True. But that’s the answer to your question."

"Huh?"

"You asked what was going to happen now! _That’s_ what’s going to happen now!"

"But Vincent isn’t here."

"So? I know where he is. Let’s go get him."

"...it’s the middle of the night."

"You really wanna sleep, after thinking about _that_?"

"...let’s take my bike."

Cid laughed.

 

 

*

 

 

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Across the room, a mirror lay flat against the floor, its reflective surface turned down.

That had not been what he’d expected to see.

His face looked a bit like it used to - all planes and angles - but it was more frail, the features fine-drawn and delicate. He’d been expecting something that reflected the demon lurking inside him, sure that Hojo would have deliberately made him horrifying, trying to make his ‘weapon’ that much more effective against the enemy.

The ghost-white skin and ruby red eyes had been a shock. He’d stared into his eyes for a very long time, trying to recall the memory of their former soft brown depths. He couldn’t quite seem to catch the image - it twisted and skittered in his thoughts until all he saw was the glowing scarlet.

His hair had been no real surprise - it had always been the same deep blue-black, now it was just ridiculously long. He never considered cutting it, though. It came in very handy to hide behind, and he wasn’t ready to stop hiding.

Not at all.

Not even if he was as monstrous to look at as he’d supposed. He still looked like some weird freak of nature; though he wasn’t sure why _everyone_ wanted to stare. There were other odd-looking people in the world besides him.

So - no scars, no demonic features.

He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the idea.

So he tried again.

No scars, no demonic...

His eyes dropped down to the gleam of bronze that was his left arm. Well - there was _this_ demonic feature. Almost twice as wide as his other arm, a huge hand with deadly claws where his fingers should have been.

He stared at it harder than he’d ever looked before - his eyes had always flinched away from the gruesome thing. Now, after finding himself to be so different from what he’d imagined -he might as well extend his study to ever part of himself.

The claw was well-made, he’d give Hojo that. Of course, the scientist wouldn’t have settled for less, the man was always going on and on about how everything had to be perfect. Vincent couldn’t help but admire the neat plating and exquisite joins, even though he hated the actual claw. It was amazing, how articulated the finger joints were, and the bolts in the cuff were set in so smoothly as to be almost invisible.

...bolts in the cuff?!

Vincent jerked the claw closer to his eyes, staring at the broad band of metal that circled his arm, just under his elbow. Why were there bolts set in it?! Hojo had told him that it was part of him, could never be removed, that there was no _way_ to remove it, and why would he want to go about with only one and one-half arms if he could use his ‘lovely creation’?

Vincent never even considered his next actions - his human fingers started tearing at the bolts, trying to work them loose. It was hopeless, of course, they were set in tight, and even with his enhanced strength they wouldn’t budge.

He needed some sort of tool.

He leapt to his feet, taking a brief moment to struggle back into his pants, and started tossing things out of the closet and dragging them out from under the bed.

Surely he had _something_ in this place that he could use!

 

 

*

 

 

"See anybody?"

"No - looks clear."

Two men eased out of a hotel room and moved silently down the stairs. They kept their heads up and their eyes open, watching for the ...enemy.

The night-time streets of the city were deserted, at least for now. It would be another hour or so before the gambling casinos and bars started heaving customers out so they could prepare for the next day’s fun.

It would be _several_ hours before the ‘honest’ businesses started opening their doors to the day-workers.

Perfect time to escape without their pursuers spotting them.

"We’re going to have to face them sooner or later," the shorter man whispered.

"Later, if I get my way," the broader one hissed back.

They fell silent again as they reached the street, ghosting down the sidewalk toward the place Cloud had hidden his motorcycle. Both of them were trying to move fast without making any noise; it was only managed because they were both highly-skilled fighters. Being quiet could sometimes mean the difference between life and death.

Cloud was in the lead, ducking through alleys and back streets just in the remote case that someone _might_ be watching them. He doubted it - if Tifa or Shera spotted them, their reaction would most certainly _not_ be silent!

...it would probably leave their ears ringing for days!

"The bike is just in there," he finally said, nodding toward a darkened doorway, across the street from the alley they were lurking in. "I rented the place - I’ve got the key."

"Good. Let’s get out of here and go get our pretty Vince, what say?"

Cloud smiled at him, not sure if the older man could see it in the pressing darkness but not really caring. "I say lead on, because I really want to see him."

"Just _see_ him?" Cid teased, poking his head out past the wall cautiously and peering up and down the street.

"Well," Cloud wasn’t used to teasing back, but he decided to try, "I want to see a _lot_  of him."

Cid snickered.

They finally decided that no females were lying in wait to pounce them when they came out; they emerged from the alley and made a mad dash across the street to the safety of the storage building. Cloud opened the door.

Two minutes later, a powerful motorcycle went roaring down the streets, two riders hunched low as the machine nearly flew away.

 

 

*

 

 

"Did you hear that?" Tifa’s head came up sharply, like a hunting dog scenting the wind.

"That’s a motorcycle," Shera’s soft voice agreed, her tone questioning.

"That’s _Cloud’s_ motorcycle! C’mon, I can tell which way it’s going! I’ve practiced!" She grabbed the other woman’s arm and hauled her down the street to where they’d left their small rented jeep.

They weren’t going to let those two get away - they were almost positive that Cloud and Cid were hiding out togther.

And they were going to find out what the _hell_ was going on!

 

 

*

 

 

Vincent felt like ripping his hair out by the roots.

Not a single useful object in the whole damn house!

Well, there was his gun repair kit, but the tools in there were so small and delicate that trying to use them to get the bolts off his claw would be like trying to kill a Mako beast with a flyswatter.

Wasn’t going to happen.

So what now? He could walk into the city, he supposed -buy something that would get the damn things off. He was desperate to see what was under the polished bronze - if his arm really was gone, or horribly deformed, he could - hopefully - put it back on.

But he had to know.

He got to his feet and shrugged into his shirt, his good hand shaking as he tried to fasten the buttons.

He was only halfway done when the roar of a powerful motorcycle told him that someone was approaching his house.

Normally, he would have gone on instant defense, catching up Death Penalty and waiting to blow some enemy’s head off.

Right now, the only thought that went through his muddled brain was to wonder if whoever it was might have a screwdriver?

 


	6. Chapter 6

" _Why_ do you want a screwdriver?" Cid asked cautiously, trying very hard not to just pounce on the tall man in front of him.

He and Cloud had pulled up to the shack barely two minutes ago; when Vincent hadn’t answered their calls, they’d gone inside.

To find a rather disoriented, walking-wet-dream Vincent Valentine. Half undressed, with his hair loose from the headbands and falling in his eyes...

...demanding to know if they had a - screwdriver.

If Vincent’s eyes hadn’t been so frantic, Cid would have offered him one, only without the word ‘driver’, just to see what he’d do.

"I need one to get these bolts off," Vincent replied, some of his normal calmness returning to his voice. He gestured toward the golden claw that nearly replaced his left arm.

Cid leaned closer, staring at it. There _were_ bolts... actually, they were small, covered screws - set into the bronze surface. Weird, he’d always thought that thing was permanently attached. "Okay, Val, but why do you want to take it off?"

"Don’t call me that. I want to see what’s under it. I never realized... that it _could_ come off."

Cid wasn’t entirely certain that was the best idea - but Cloud stared into Vincent’s red eyes for a long moment, nodded, and went out to his motorcycle. He was back in less than half a minute, a toolbox in his hand. Vincent grabbed for it, but both Cid and Cloud blocked him. They opened the box and went over the tools inside, their eyes quick and professional.

"This one," they said together, reaching for the perfect bit of metal, then Cid pushed Vincent down on the bed, pulled the rickety table close, and gently stretched Vincent’s metallic arm out on it.

"What are you doing?" Vincent demanded. His eyes had lost some of the desperation they’d had when Cid and Cloud arrived; the ruby depths were filled with puzzlement, now.

"We’re going to do this for you," Cloud said quietly, moving oh-so-carefully to ease the bronze cover off the first screw.

"Yeah - ain’t like you can do it, yourself," Cid added, watching the younger man like a hawk. "Takes two hands."

"Oh," was Vincent’s deep, meaningful reply.

Cid snickered a little, and shifted them both until Vincent was actually sitting between his legs. He didn’t press close - yet - so he knew the other man hadn’t noticed.

Cloud noticed. He flicked a glance at their position and started fighting a smile - then his eyes flickered over Vincent again and his hands began a very faint, fine trembling.

Hm? Cid leaned over Vincent’s shoulder to see what was causing that, and very nearly pitched forward onto his face. Stretching Vincent’s arm out like that had caused his shirt to slip off of one shoulder, revealing a broad expanse of sleek, ivory skin, stretched tight over lean firm muscles, a delicately etched collarbone, and a pale, pretty nipple.

Yum.

He felt his own hands start shaking, and realized it was because he was fighting the desire to touch.

It was a fight he didn’t want to win - but first, they needed to take care of Vincent. And that meant getting that arm off, so he could see whatever it was he wanted to see.

Cid hoped it wasn’t going to be something bad, that would send their beautiful prey off into another spiral of black depression.

He had too many plans for that to happen.

And he cared too much about Vincent to _let_ that happen.

So whatever was under that shiny bronze claw, they’d just have to deal with it fast.

 

 

*

 

 

Why in the world was the boy being so careful?

Vincent just wanted him to rip the screws out and yank the monstrosity off his arm, not move like he was dealing with fine bone china.

Come to think of it, _both_ of the blonds were acting strange. He hadn’t even noticed that Cid was sitting behind him, that the pilot’s strong thighs were keeping him blocked in or that a thick, warm arm had wrapped itself around his waist.

He forgot to wonder about their odder actions when Cloud eased out the last small screw and laid it aside. He and Cid both took a gentle hold on the claw, and began to ease it down. Vincent just watched, ruby eyes wide, as it inched down his arm.

All right, there were tiny metal casings set into his skin, places for the screws to tighten and hold the glove on. Probably permanent, but he could deal with those.

It was the skin that was being revealed that fascinated him. It was even paler than the rest of him, so ghostly white it was almost translucent - but it was _there_. The claw was moving more easily as they slid it down, revealing more and more of an arm that he had thought lost forever. There was his wrist, the veins so blue they looked like they’d been drawn on with a child’s marker, the frail, fragile-looking bones sharply defined.

Then his hand - with delicate traces of circuitry laying just under his skin, so shallow that it was easily visible. His fingers were twitching, jumping and flexing all on their own, and he couldn’t control them. No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t control them.

Cid reached out and touched a sparking conduit on the back of his hand and he jumped. His nerve endings lit on fire from the single touch. "Don’t!"

"Sensitive?"

Vincent nodded, unable to speak further. Cid had lifted his fingers, but that touch still seemed to be burning through his hand.

"Move your hand," Cloud urged, leaning over it with his blue eyes alight with curiosity.

Vincent tried to obey - tried to just curl his fingers a little - but they instantly tightened into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

"Not so hard," Cid said sharply, moving to rub Vincent’s elbow, just above where the claw had been attached.

"I didn’t mean to," Vincent said faintly, even as his fingers relaxed. "I barely moved them - or I thought I barely moved them..."

"It’s the circuits, I think," Cloud said after a moment’s thought. "I think they’re enhancing all your movements, so that you’re strong enough to move the claw. I think - I think that you would have barely moved the claws, instead of making a fist. Does it hurt?"

"Not exactly," Vincent replied, still staring at his hand. "It’s just - I can feel everything. It’s too much." He could, too - every bump and sliver of the wooden table under his palm, every bit of breathe when Cloud was talking. He could almost swear he felt the weight of their eyes looking at his flesh. It was making his heart race, and it was _almost_ painful.

"Let’s put it back on, then," Cid said, tightening the arm around Vincent’s waist and setting his chin on the man’s shoulder. "You can take it off a little longer every day, until you get used to sensation again."

"...all right," Vincent agreed slowly. He really didn’t want to put that thing back on - his mind was still trying to wrap itself around the knowledge that he still had his hand - but he knew he couldn’t take much more of the intense sensations in those newly rediscovered fingers. His brain might explode.

Or his hand might burst into flame.

Cloud gently replaced the claw, and Cid held it in place while the younger man put the screws back in and replaced the covers.

Then shoved the table out of the way, and sat down beside Cid.

Very, very close to Cid, and to him.

Vincent stared.

Cid chuckled. "We have some other things to talk about now, Val."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"I told ya, I like it." Something brushed gently against his neck - was that Cid’s _lips_?! He jerked around to stare and found it was, indeed, Cid’s lips.

The same lips that crushed against his, kissing him thoroughly.

And there were softer lips pressing against his ear on the other side, a hand tangling in his hair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cloud’s other hand move to rest lightly on Cid’s broad shoulder.

His mind stuttered to a complete stop.

 

 

*

 

 

"There’s the cycle."

"What are they doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don’t know, but we’re going to find out."

Two shadowy figures moved closer to the little, tumble-down shack.

"What could they possibly be doing in there?"

"If you’ll give me a hand, I’ll peek through the window. Then we’ll know."

"All right."

There was a grunt of effort, then a soft, feminine yelp as the first figure wavered.

"Shh!"

"Sorry, I almost fell!"

"Just look in the window, will you? You’re heavy!"

"Shh!" The first figure obeyed, peeking through the wavy glass into the dim room.

Then staring.

"Well?"

"Oh... oh... my..."

"What?!"

"We have a _serious_ problem."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Vincent sat perfectly still for a long moment, with a warm tongue in his mouth and another exploring his ear.

He was torn between punching the two men and letting them continue what they were doing - he hadn’t been touched in any way that didn’t cause pain in so very, very long.

But he was not the sort of person to passively accept this - he pulled his mouth away from Cid’s and stared at the man.

And at Cloud, who left off memorizing his ear and leaned against Cid’s shoulder, smiling wistfully at him.

"Why?" Vincent demanded, refusing to give in to the need that smile set up in him, to take the fragile-looking blond into his arms. Cloud was _far_ from fragile.

"Why not?" was Cid’s reply.

Vincent frowned.

"Because we want you?" Cloud ventured.

The frown deepened. "Not good enough."

"Because you’re damn beautiful," Cid tried.

Vincent shook his head. "No."

"No, that’s not a good reason, or no, I’m not beautiful?" The pilot wanted some clarification.

"Either. Both."

"Who says you’re not beautiful?!" Cid asked sharply, while Cloud glared.

Vincent blinked. "I do."

"Don’t you have a mirror here?" Cid looked around, his eyes falling on the square object, face down on the floor. "That’s a mirror, isn’t it? Ever looked in it?"

He was teasing.

Vincent’s answer floored him.

"Once."

 

 

*

 

 

"What are we going to do?" Shera asked, her big eyes swimming with tears.

"I’m not sure," was Tifa’s distracted reply. She kept glancing back toward the window. If Shera didn’t know better, she’d think the woman wanted to look back inside.

How very strange.

"We have to come up with something - some plan!" she insisted, trying to get Tifa to pay attention to her.

"Mmhmm..."

"Tifa! Do you want your silly Cloud to _stay_ with that freak?!"

"What? Of course not! But he wasn’t the only one cuddling Vincent, so don’t call him names!"

"I’m not sure I believe that Cid was kissing that man! Cid doesn’t _like_ men!"

"He seemed to be liking this one just _fine!"_

Shera glared. "I think I need to look in that window."

"Oh, ho, you just want some eye-candy!"

"Some _what?"_

"Never mind. Come on, I’ll give you a boost."

 

 

*

 

 

"You’re crazy! Or seeing things! They’re not kissing!"

"What are they doing, then?"

"Just sitting there staring at each other."

"Not even talking?"

"Well, yes, but I can’t hear what they’re saying."

"Whatever, come on down. I’ve got an idea."

Shera landed with a muffled ‘oof!’ - Tifa hadn’t exactly been careful when removing her support.

She ignored the glare the other woman gave her. "So, here’s the plan - we sneak over to Cloud’s cycle, right? He’s got all kinds of gadgets packed on that thing. I happen to know that he has some sleep-bombs."

"What are those?"

"Little canisters of gas that will put even a Mako-beast to sleep for a few minutes. Long enough for us to do what we have to do."

"Get them out of there?"

"Exactly."

"And then?"

"Take Cloud and Cid somewhere and tie them up until they come to their senses?"

"I have a _better_ idea."

 

 

*

 

 

"What do you mean, once?"

"I don’t like mirrors," was the calm reply.

Cid sputtered, but Cloud’s quiet voice distracted him.

"It was a long time before I was ready to look in a mirror, too."

"What’s that mean?" the pilot demanded.

"After the lab. After Hojo."

Vincent’s body moved in a tiny shiver, almost undetectable.

Unless, of course, you were Cloud Strife or Cid Highwind.

They saw.

Cloud understood, and Cid tried to. Both reached back out for the man, and ignored his struggling as they pulled him into a three-way hug.

Vincent didn’t want to hurt them, so the struggles were only half-heartened. He ended up with his nose squashed against Cloud’s chest and Cid’s face pressed against the back of his neck.

"You _are_ beautiful, you know," the younger blond whispered. "He didn’t take that away from you."

"What...?"

"I - um, I’ve seen your old Turk ID photo. You were beautiful then, too." He didn’t mention that he’d spent days - and quite a few gil - to track that photo down.

Vincent made an odd huffing noise. "If I’m so ‘beautiful’, why do people stare at me?"

" _Because_ you’re beautiful," was Cid’s growled reply, as the face against his neck moved. Vincent shivered at the sudden touch of Cid’s tongue against his throat. "And them eyes and such just make you more gorgeous. Look all deadly-sexy and stuff."

Cloud snickered, sliding a hand down Vincent’s arm to rest on the bronze claw. "Even this isn’t so bad. Makes you look dangerous."

"You are both insane," was the muffled reply. Vincent wasn’t sure he liked the wet touch against his sensitive skin - at least, that’s what he told himself - so he pressed closer to Cloud in a half-hearted attempt to get away from it.

Cloud didn’t mind.

He slid a hand between the two men; since Cid was pressing close to Vincent, he managed to stroke Vincent’s long, lean back and Cid’s muscular front at the same time. Both made odd little sounds, so he smiled and did it again.

The sounds were louder, the second time.

Cid managed to get his hands back in the action, sliding them around to tweak at Cloud’s nipples through his tight shirt, getting a moan from the younger man. Then he slid them over Vincent’s chest, searching for the buttons to his shirt and slowly undoing them.

Vincent didn’t notice at first.

It was hard to pay attention to such mundane things as being undressed when Cloud Strife was kissing you.

Just as mind-numbing as Cid’s kiss, he noticed, although in a different way. Cid kissed like a devil, Cloud kissed... like an angel.

If angels kissed...?

Why was he bothering to wonder about that?

 

 

*

 

 

Cid got the last button undone and started easing the shirt off of Vincent’s pale shoulders. Cloud was doing a good job distracting him - probably distracting himself, right along with Vince - but he wasn’t taking any chances on the man realizing what he was doing until that shirt was in a corner, across the room.

Burnt and buried under rubble, if Cid could have his way.

‘Cause Vincent Valentine was _far_ too pretty to be allowed to wear clothes.

Ever.

Cloud seemed to be of the same opinion - he lifted his head to breathe after one very intense kiss, glanced down at Vincent’s now-bare chest, and nearly fell off the bed.

Cid took the opportunity to steal Vincent, yanking the dark head around and tasting those kiss-swollen lips. The sight of those two together had _highly_ turned him on - he was starting to ache. He was going to take this slow, though - Vincent deserved it.

Also, the man could probably kill them both without working up much of a sweat.

Kind of made a man want to be a bit careful.

Turned him on even more, too.

He slid a hand down Vincent’s side, enjoying the silky texture of all that ivory skin, the subtle shift of muscles as Vince moved closer. He reached down and snagged Cloud’s shoulder, pulling him up and against Vincent’s back, tilting his head so he could still kiss the dark-haired man while watching the blond’s hands join his in exploring that lovely torso.

He settled one hand into playing with one of those pretty pale nipples he’d wanted to touch earlier. The other slipped around to work its way up under Cloud’s shirt, stroking the defined abdominal muscles.

Both men shivered.

Cloud moaned. Vincent was silent, so far - Cid started planning on exactly what it would take to make the pretty man scream. He let Cloud take over the hard little nub he’d been worshipping and ran his hand down to rest lightly on Vincent’s belt buckle.

Then the door slammed open and there was the ‘clink, clink, clink’ of metal as an olive-green canister bounced across the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

At first, Cid assumed he was waking up with just another hangover in a long line of hangovers. He was in his own bed, in his own house, in Rocket Town, after all. The curtains were closed, and the room smelled a little bit like whiskey and a whole lot like stale cigar smoke - so everything was normal.

He got up, staggered to the bathroom, and spent his usual ten minutes hugging the toilet like it was a long lost friend. He then splashed water on his face, gave his teeth a quick brushing, and tossed on some half-decent clothes before making his way to the kitchen.

Shera was there, cooking breakfast - nothing new, he often wondered how the hell she got in his house but had long since given up trying to keep her out.

She looked extremely happy.

Cid was immediately suspicious.

A happy Shera usually meant a plotting Shera.

A plotting Shera was _never_ a good thing.

"Why’re you in my house?" he grumbled his usual question, jerking cabinet doors open until he found a bottle of aspirin. She immediately put a cup of coffee in his hand and he glared at her. "Well?"

"I thought you might want breakfast this morning," she said sweetly, "a nice, home-cooked meal."

"Your home-cooked eggs are burning," Cid informed her, turning his back and gulping down the pills.

Shera shrieked, making him clutch his head, and she rushed to the stove. Cid flopped down in a chair and sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to anything Shera cooked, but it would take too much energy to shove her out of the house and fix himself something decent.

Anyway, he had to try and figure out what he was supposed to do today... he couldn’t remember his usual mental list that he made every night, which was odd. Being drunk had never made him neglect that before.

He had a feeling that he was forgetting something.

Something important.

Well, he was sure it would come to him.

Shera set a plate of very odd-looking food in front of him and he stared down at it - muddy looking, burnt eggs, barely-singed toast, and he’d never seen purple bacon before.

He seriously doubted if he wanted to learn what it tasted like.

His eyes went to the window, to the view of the ‘Highwind’, shining in the early morning sun. Maybe he’d meant to service her today; he usually did after he came back from a trip of any length, and finding Vincent had taken a lot longer than he’d expected.

Shera jumped when his coffee cup smashed on the floor. "Cid?"

"What am doing here?!"

"...what do you mean?" she asked, and he saw her eyes skitter nervously to the side.

"I was gone - I found Cloud, then I found Vince - and," he frowned, dredging up oddly reluctant memories, "and then we were helping Vince out with that damn claw... and..." he paused, and grinned lasciviously - then frowned again. "And then nothing. What the hell happened? why am I back here? how’d the ‘Highwind’ get here?"

Shera was backing away, easing toward the door. An angry Cid was _never_ fun to deal with; she’d just have to give him time to calm down and think things over, then she knew he’d understand.

"Shera?"

Cid’s angry voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Yes, Cid?"

"Someone threw a gas canister into Vincent’s house, didn’t they? Wouldn’t know who that was, would you?"

"A gas canister?"

"Yeah, little round metal thing, makes bad smoke. How’d I get back to Rocket Town, Shera?"

"Er..."

"Ain’t many people can fly the ‘Highwind’, _Shera_ \- and you happen to be one of the few."

"Cid, I - I ..."

"Ah, forget it. For now. I’ll deal with you later. I guess Tifa has Cloud? What did ya do with Vinnie?"

The woman visibly flinched, and a guilty look spread across her face.

"Shera?!"

She opened her mouth and closed it, still not answering.

"Never mind; I’ll find out myself. But listen to me, woman - if you’ve hurt him... _either_ of them - then you had best get out of Rocket Town. As it is right now, get out of my house. And I don’t ever want to see you in here, again!"

Cid left, almost running for the ‘Highwind’, leaving Shera staring after him.

How did her little plan go so wrong?

 

 

*

 

 

Cloud woke up mad, but he wasn’t sure why.

He just knew he was _furious_!

He threw back the covers, after finding himself in the narrow bed of the crappy little room Tifa had ‘loaned’ him above her bar, and discovered someone had undressed him down to his boxers. Couldn’t have been himself; he never slept in only his underwear. Pajama pants or nude, no in-between for him!

He yanked on his clothes, grabbed his sword, and thundered down the stairs.

Tifa was polishing the bar - it was early, and there were no customers yet. She looked startled, and, he noticed, a little nervous.

"C-cloud! I didn’t think you’d be awake yet!"

"Why wouldn’t I be?" he demanded, staring at her.

"Oh, er... well, you were so tired last night..."

Cloud’s brain functioned a little better than Cid’s when he first woke up; he knew right away that something was off about the way she was acting. He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together thoughtfully.

‘ _Tired last night - but last night I wasn’t here - was I? No, I wasn’t. I was with Cid. Yeah, Cid - and V-vincent..._ ’ A mental image of Vincent Valentine, with his eyes dazed and his lips swollen with kisses, shirtless, with Cid Highwind’s darkly tanned arms wrapped around the pale ivory of his waist, Cid’s mouth nuzzling Vincent’s elegant neck, abruptly distracted him.

To the point that he nearly passed out.

His fingers automatically came up to check for nosebleeds.

That wasn’t his imagination, either... he really _had_ seen that!

Oh, man... he’d _participated_ in that!

"Cloud! Are you all right?!"

Tifa’s worried voice, and her hand on his arm, brought him back to himself.

He stared at her. "Where’s Cid and Vincent? And why did you touch my bike?"

"What do you mean? I didn’t..."

"Tifa, I know you did. You’re the only one who knew I bought those gas grenades. What did you do with them?"

"They’re still on your bike."

"No, Tifa - what did you do with Cid and Vincent?"

Tifa scowled. "Shera took them. She said she’d take good care of them. I just wanted you to come back and be _safe_ , Cloud!"

"You had no right," he replied softly, and he knew that she realized what he meant by the dull red color that spread over her face.

"But Cloud..."

"Why would you do that? Interrupt like that?"

"You were kissing Vincent Valentine, Cloud! What was I supposed to do? What about _us_?!"

"Tifa - for years you told me there _was_ no us. I got over it. It was just a crush."

"No, Cloud! I was mistaken - just afraid of settling down! Things are different now, we can..."

"No. Too late, Tifa. I’m not interested any more."

She glared at him. "I can’t believe you’d give up on us for an idiot like Cid and a freak like Vincent!"

It was Cloud’s turn to glare. "Watch what you say, Tifa. I _would_ like to be friends again, someday."

Tifa paled. "Not friends?! But we’ve always been friends! We’re still friends now! You can overlook..."

"No, Tifa. I’ll forgive an old friend a lot of things, but not this. Not yet. Where did she take them?"

Tifa knew from the look in his eyes that it was time to ‘fess up. "To Rocket Town, I guess. That’s the direction the ‘Highwind’ was heading after she dropped us off."

"Were they awake?"

"Cid was out cold, but Vincent was starting to wake up."

Cloud glared. "Tied up?"

She had to grace to look ashamed, and nodded. "With some special restraints of Cid’s that Shera said even he couldn’t break."

"Tifa!" He couldn’t believe she had done that - she was supposed to be a nice girl? Nice girls didn’t go around tying up former war comrades, especially ones who hadn’t done anything to them!

"I did feel kind of bad about that," she admitted, "but Shera seemed to think it was for the best. She said she had a plan on what to do with him..."

"What was it?" Cloud demanded, already searching for the keys to his bike.

"I don’t know. I guess hide him in Rocket Town until she can convince him to go away."

"Damn," was Cloud’s only response as he ran for the door.

He knew Vincent wouldn’t take a lot of convincing. Man had about as much self confidence as a dead chocobo. All Shera had to do was make a few well-planned comments and he’d think Cid and Cloud hated him.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He had to find Cid, find Vincent - fast.

 

 

*

 

 

He thought his head _might_  have hurt worse after Hojo’s little brain surgery experiment, but he wasn’t sure.

He tried to open his eyes, and discovered he couldn’t.

He tried to move his arms, and that didn’t work either.

Sitting up, rolling over - twitching - nothing worked.

He felt panic stir in him, and it grew worse as his breath stayed even and deep instead of starting to hyperventilate.

He smelled a familiar smell. Musty, and closed off, the scent of metal and spilled chemicals.

He sensed walls close to him, and the heavy weight of something thick just above his face.

And suddenly, he knew where he was.

He didn’t know _how_ he knew, but he knew.

He knew, he knew, he _knew_!

He was back in his coffin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I forgot I was posting this! Sorry for the wait! I'm rewriting a bit of the last chapter; hopefully it will be up in a day or two. Or three.

He tried to remember how he got here.

It wasn’t easy - being in the coffin wasn’t _true_ sleep; his brain still worked in a basic sort of way, but concentrating on one subject was difficult. Vincent, however, was stubborn - to put it mildly - and forced his reluctant brain to dredge up the memories.

He remembered sitting on his cot in the little shack.

He remembered warm arms and warm hands and warm mouths.

He remembered the sharp sound of metal bouncing along the wooden floor.

He remembered blinking awake, and Cid’s heavy breathing, stirring against his throat.

He remembered trying to speak to the man, but he was asleep and wouldn’t wake up.

He remembered small, strong hands grasping him beneath his arms, and dragging him.

Dragging him a very long way, out of dim light and into bright, then back to dim, his heels bumping against stairs as he was dragged up them, the already-healing ache in his sides and back the was the result of being tumbled down more stairs.

Then he was lifted, struggling slightly, slung over the sharp edge of what he had thought was a box, but now realized was his hated coffin. Dangled there, his head and shoulders in and his legs out, and that person had lifted his feet and shoved him the rest of the way in, then yanked him around until he lay flat enough for them to get the lid on.

Then it was dark.

It was still dark.

 

 

*

 

 

Cloud was driving down a deserted highway, going faster than he remembered this bike _ever_ going, when the ‘Highwind’ roared by overhead.

He slammed on his brakes and whipped the bike around, just in time to see the big ship turn, as well, and settle down onto the barren plain.

Then the hatch flew open, and Cid jumped out.

"Are you all right?" he shouted, "Where’s Vincent?"

Cloud heard the words even over the roar of his bike; he pulled up and turned the machine off just in time to be yanked into a bone-crushing hug.

"Are you all right?" Cid asked again, his voice just a whisper this time.

"I’m fine," Cloud replied, his own arms tight around the other man. "I don’t know where Vincent is - Tifa told me Shera took both of you to Rocket Town."

"Shit! Damn that woman! I was just there - c’mon, let’s go back and find him! Gonna _strangle_ her..."

They quickly loaded Cloud’s motorcycle onto the airship, then Cid - still grumbling and swearing - had the ‘Highwind’ back in the air and zooming toward his town at the highest speed he could manage.

He was babbling.

"Maybe she took him to her house? Nah, she wouldn’t do that, she’d know people would tell me. Let’s see - she could have put him in the old rocket, I think the door is still open - or there’s an abandoned house or two at the edge of town... but how the hell does she plan on keeping him there?"

"Tifa said she used some restraints that you had."

"Oh, _hell_ \- those things are left over from some big-ass prisoner I was paid to haul to some high-security jail. He was some super-strong freak - a _real_ freak, he had surgical alterations done to himself. Shit, a Mako beast on speed couldn’t break out of those things! I’m gonna kick Shera’s ass until she leaves my footprint behind every time she sits down!"

"Tifa also said that Shera had a specific plan for Vincent, but didn’t tell her what it was."

"Shit, hell, _and_ damn - again! That woman’s tricky. This ain’t gonna be easy, you know?"

"But it’ll be worth it."

"Oh, yeah," Cid finally grinned. "It’ll be worth it. Can’t wait to get our Val back. C’mere, by the way, and gimme a kiss."

Cloud smiled through his worry, and got up.

 

 

*

 

 

He wasn’t sure he could take much more of this.

The nightmares he’d suffered the first time he’d been crammed into this box were worse now - he had all those lovely visions of the war and Sephiroth to add a little variety to the mix.

It didn’t help that he was laying in an awkward position, crumpled on his side with one arm trapped under him at an odd angle, long legs bent and jammed into the lower third of the coffin. He could sense the ache setting up in his body even though he wasn’t awake, and he couldn’t shift at all to ease the pain.

The ache in his soul was worse.

His memories were all confused and tangled together, but whatever Hojo had done to ensure that his long sleep in this box was full of nightmares was apparently still in effect. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him flashed in front of his eyes, twisted and made worse by his fevered imagination.

He wanted to scream.

He hated that he was so weak - he could be strong out there, in the free air, but in this box all his strength left him and he was like a shivering child. Weak, pitiful, helpless...

The worry didn’t help either - someone had put him in this thing and it could only have been an enemy - what had they done to Cloud and Cid? He couldn’t bear the thought of them trapped somewhere else, with someone hurting them. What if they were expecting him to rescue them? And he was _trapped_ here, with no way out until someone lifted that lid - would they hate him now?

Did they already hate him?

He felt a whimper force its way out of his frozen throat, felt his body start an involuntary trembling.

He wanted to die.

He couldn’t take this - this time he would go completely insane. He just wanted to die, to leave all this, to be swallowed up by restful death and finally be at peace.

Cid and Cloud didn’t need him. Wouldn’t want him.

Not after he’d failed them like this.

The others - Tifa and Barrett and the rest - hadn’t even cared where he was, wouldn’t care if they knew he was trapped again in this nightmare.

He remembered the whispered words as his unknown enemy had shoved him into the box.

"...freak..." they had whispered, "...this is where you belong."

‘ _I don’t. Please..._ ’

‘ _Whatever I did to deserve it this time - I’m sorry._ ’

‘ _Please let me out._ ’

 

 

*

 

 

"Where is he?"

The voice startled Shera; she dropped the delicate piece of machinery she was working with and it broke into a thousand pieces on the concrete workshop floor. "Cid?! You came back!"

"I asked you a question, damn it!"

She blinked at him, still smiling, oblivious to his scowl or the one of the blond boy lurking behind him. "Where is who?"

"Vincent, you bitch! We’ve checked every building in town _and_ the rocket - what did you do with him?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat! It’ll just take a few minutes..." She was stripping the work gloves off her hands as she spoke.

Cid clutched at his hair to keep from hitting her. "No, Shera. No food. Just talk. Tifa already spilled her guts, we know it was you. Where. Is. Vincent?"

Shera kept the sweet smile on her face with the greatest effort. "Tifa is obviously delusional, if she thinks I know where Vincent is. I haven’t seen that man since the war ended."

"Shera..." The word was a low, warning growl. Goodness, but Cid was sexy when he did that!

"Shera, tell me now, and I won’t throw you out of town."

"Throw me out of... what on earth are you talking about, Cid?"

"You know what I’m talking about!" the pilot nearly screamed. "You damn little bitch! Talk! Now!"

"Cid," Cloud said softly, "does Shera know where we found Vincent?"

"Huh? Uh, I guess so, I think I told her when she asked about him. Why?"

Cloud blinked at him, waiting for the horrible idea he’d just had to occur to the other man.

"Oh, no!" Cid had apparently got it. "She didn’t... you didn’t!" he shouted, turning on the confused woman. "You didn’t take him back there?!"

"Back where, Cid?"

"I’ll kill you! Why would you do something like that to a man you don’t even know? You have to be the most sadistic little..."

"Cid," she said softly, reasonably, "why on earth would I want to put that poor man back in his coffin?"

"Who said anything about a coffin?" Cloud asked, glaring at her.

Shera blinked, her eyes shifting nervously. "Oh, but... you said where he came from, and that... that means his coffin..."

Cid was glaring, too. "I never told you about his coffin, Shera. I told you Cloud found him in a lab in the ShinRa mansion. How did you ever learn about his coffin?"

"The files." Cloud answered for her.

"Huh?"

"Vincent’s files - Tifa says Shera’s pretty much your stalker, and wants to know everything about everyone around you - Aeris took a lot of Vincent’s files from Hojo’s lab and they’re still on the ‘Highwind’. What do you want to bet that she’s read them?"

Cid turned furious eyes on Shera, who nearly wilted. "Have you been going through the files in those boxes?"

"No, Cid." She tried for innocence, but the look in their eyes gave her the unsettling feeling that she had failed.

"Shera - be very glad that I don’t have the time to waste on you. We’re leaving. If we find Vincent there - well, you’d be a smart woman if you were gone when I get back. Never hit a woman in my life, but you’ll be the first." He turned on his heel and walked out.

Cloud gave her a narrow-eyed, stony gaze. "You won’t like what I’ll do to you, either," he said, in a soft voice that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Then he turned and followed Cid.

A moment later, and she heard the distant roar of the ‘Highwind’ taking off.

She stood there for a long moment, thinking furiously.

"They were joking," she finally said to herself. "Cid loves me - he just feels he _has_ to rescue that man. He just said that to look tough in front of his friend. Men - they’re so silly. I wonder if I should have supper ready for him when he gets back? He should appreciate that. What was I doing before he got here?"

She frowned down at the shattered machine on the floor and went for the dustpan.

 

 

*

 

 

Dark, dark, and more dark.

Vincent had struggled his eyes open in one of the rare waking moments he sometimes experienced in his coffin, but he lacked the strength to do more than that.

Red eyes just stared sightlessly at the side of the coffin. There was no light, nothing for his enhanced vision to pick up.

Just dark.

"Let me out..." he pleaded softly, knowing no one was there to hear him.

Then he slipped back into sleep.

 

 

*

 

 

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Cloud asked suddenly.

Cid looked up, puzzled. They’d been flying in relative silence, both of them worried about their missing comrade. "Is what going to work?"

"This. Us. Me, and you, and Vincent?"

"I’m gonna _make_ it work."

Cloud gazed at him, then shook his head. "I almost believe you."

"‘Course you believe me. If anyone can do it, I can."

"You have a very high opinion of yourself."

"Nah - just know what I can and can’t do. This definitely goes under ‘can’. Just gotta get our pretty boy, and work on whatever the hell this has done to his messed-up head. It’ll all work out. We all work good together, fight good together, no reason why we can’t live good together."

"But we’re all so different."

"That just makes life excitin’, boy. Be boring if we all thought the same way."

"So you really think it’s all going to be all right? All of us together?"

"Of course it will. You two can get all angsty and broody together, and I can smack you both at the same time. Cuts down on the wear and tear on my fists."

Cloud couldn’t help but laugh.

 

 

*

 

 

It was late evening when they reached the ShinRa mansion. The old house loomed over them like a set from some old horror-movie vid. Felt like it too - the air seemed chillier here - despite the warm climate - damp and foreboding.

"Hate this place," Cid muttered, slinging a small bag over his shoulder. He’d insisted on bringing it, but refused to say what was inside.

"I don’t like it very much, myself," was Cloud’s quiet reply. "Let’s just see if she put Vincent here, get him, and leave."

"Yes, oh mighty leader."

Cloud scowled at him and shoved open the front door. The first thing he noticed were tracks on the dusty floor - small, neat shoe prints and two odd thick lines.

"Someone dragging something," Cid said both their thoughts aloud. "Shera is too small to carry Vincent, though I got a feeling he ain’t all that heavy."

Cloud just nodded. He started for the stairs, following the marks.

"Why’d she have to do this?" Cid grumbled, eyes darting around to search for monsters in the shadows. "Damn woman. Women. Both of them!"

"I don’t know," Cloud replied softly. "Much as I dislike the idea of Vincent in that box, let’s just hope he’s really here and she didn’t change her mind and chain him up in a cave somewhere."

Cid grumbled again, but nodded.

He followed Cloud down a hallway and into another room, ignoring his surroundings beyond looking for danger. He didn’t care what the damn place looked like, he just wanted to get Val and get his boys out of here! They went down another set of stairs and neither said a word about the fact that the footprints remained, but the lines were replaced with patches. They knew what it meant; they were just grateful that Vincent healed as quickly as he did. They kept going, keeping their faces expressionless.

Cid _did_ glare at the laboratory, though.

He didn’t know much of what had gone on in here, but he knew enough to make him wish they could kill Hojo all over again.

They finally stopped when they were standing in front of a coffin.

A coffin that they had seen, not all that long ago, with its lid off and spiders happily building homes inside.

It was closed now.

And there were small hand prints in the dust on the lid.

And odd scratches on the side of the coffin.

They left bigger hand prints in the dust as they shoved the lid aside, and it was doubtful if Shera’s heart had been beating as frantically as theirs.

Vincent was there.

Scrunched into the lower half of the coffin, laying on his right side, with his right arm pinned painfully beneath him and the claws of his left hand matched the line of scratches, digging into the side of the box like he’d tried to keep himself from going in.

They had no doubt he had.

His legs were bent until his heels were nearly against his thighs, his knees and the soles of his shoes pressed tightly against the sides of the coffin. Shera must have just shoved them in until she could pull the lid on smoothly; she obviously hadn’t cared at all if Vincent was damaged by all this.

It was nothing like the peaceful-looking scene Cloud had seen the first time he’d shoved that lid away. Vincent had looked like a sleeping, dark angel, no matter the nightmares tearing him apart inside.

Now he looked like a broken, abandoned toy.

Cid leaned forward, his hands trembling slightly, and pushed back the heavy dark hair that hid Vincent’s face.

The first thing they saw was blood.

Vincent’s mouth and chin were covered with dried blood - he must have bitten a lip or his tongue in his sleep. Even now his jaw muscles were clenched tight, and his eyes moved rapidly behind the closed lids.

He was dreaming.

"Enough of this," Cid growled, and slid an arm under Vincent’s shoulders, raising him slightly and supporting his head when it wanted to fall loosely back. Cloud gently worked the man’s legs out of their cramped position until Cid could put his other arm beneath his knees, then he lifted the man easily from the metal prison.

And handed him straight to Cloud. "He don’t weigh nothing, you can carry him easy. Get him out of here."

"What are you going to do?"

Cid glared down at the coffin. "Blow this thing sky-high."

Cloud managed a smile, even as he clutched Vincent to his chest. "There are explosives on my bike - I can bring some back down?"

"No, brought my own." Cid lifted the mysterious bag and grinned at him. "Delayed action bombs. Go on, get him out of here. I’ll be right behind you."

Cloud nodded, giving the coffin one last glare, then he was running up the stairs, clutching the too-light, too-still form as tightly as he dared. He heard Cid swearing behind him, and the clank of metal against metal. He didn’t look back, just kept going, until he was out of the house, away, standing in the safe shadow of the ‘Highwind.’

When Cid came out a moment later, he found Cloud sitting on the ground. Vincent was draped across his lap, long legs outstretched, his head settled in the crook of Cloud’s arm. The blond had a bottle of water and was trying to get the taller man to drink.

Vincent’s eyes were still closed, and the water was just washing away the blood as it ran down his chin.

"I thought he woke up pretty quickly, last time," Cid said as he dropped down to kneel next to them.

"He did," was the quiet response, "but Shera didn’t know what she was doing. I’m sure there were preparations Hojo went through - he wouldn’t have just shoved Vincent into that cryo-sleep chamber."

"What kind of preparations?"

"I would guess there were medications, maybe some materia used. Vincent didn’t bite his lips or claw the side of the coffin the first time. Something kept him calm and still, and woke him up fast in case Hojo needed him."

"I don’t know if I should swear at the scientist or Shera."

Cloud smiled. "How about both?"

"Works for me." Cid reached out and touched Vincent’s cheek. "Has he even twitched?"

"Not yet."

"Damn."

 

 

*

 

 

There was something different.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was - he felt like his head had been wrapped in cotton, and then someone had taken a two-by-four to it.

It smelled different. There was no musty, metallic scent of chemicals, no lingering trace of blood’s coppery smell. The air smelled fresh, dry - there was a familiar scent of leather and warm skin on one side of him, machine oil and cigarettes on the other.

And there were voices, very _familiar_ voices, talking above his head.

Something hard was against his lips, coolness flowing into his mouth and out, running down his chin to dribble on his chest. He swallowed, letting the coolness run down his aching throat, and the voices above him became excited.

Then a deep, angry ‘BOOM!’ shook the ground and he bolted upright, eyes flying open, ignoring the startled noises as he shoved whoever was holding him away and scrambled toward the nearest blurry safe spot.

Huh. A wheel.

Very big wheel, too... like something from the ‘Highwind.’

Oh, so _that’s_ who those voices belonged to! He blinked rapidly, and Cid and Cloud’s worried faces came slowly into focus. Cid was crooning at him, a steady flow of reassuring words and sounds, and Cloud was gazing silently, eyes hopeful.

Behind them, the ShinRa mansion was burning to the ground.

Vincent fought with confusion, disbelief, sorrow, fear... and finally gave in to the reaction his heart truly wanted to give.

He smiled.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Cid and Cloud stared.

Vincent was really pretty when he smiled.

  
*

  
To Vincent Valentine, smiles could mean several things.

Some nice ones were greetings, or meant that, perhaps, someone cared about you.

Some darker ones meant something bad was about to happen, or that evil thoughts were swirling around in the person’s head.

The smile he’d given the two blonds had been meant as a heartfelt ‘thank you.’

What it had not meant was ‘I am now ready for us to go at it like bunnies.’

But that seemed to be what they had taken it for-

 - if the tongue in his mouth and the hands inside his clothes meant anything.

He wasn’t objecting, though. No, not after being in that coffin and feeling absolutely certain that these two men hated him, that he’d never see them again.

Seemed he was wrong.

And he was quite desperate for their touch, for the certain knowledge it brought - that this was real, that he was out of that box, that the flames he could sense not far away really was the ShinRa mansion burning to the ground.

He’d never liked flames quite so much before.

And he’d definitely never been touched like this before! Not even that earlier little make-out session, back in his dreary little shack, was anything like this. Cloud and Cid had grown about seven extra hands apiece.

“This all right?” Cid’s voice was harsh and desperate in his ear. “Please, Val, this all right?”

Vincent tried to get his throat muscles to work and quickly gave up on it as a lost cause. Despite the water Cloud had poured into him, they seemed to be frozen solid. He nodded, instead, and those seven extra hands abruptly doubled to fourteen.

Amazing.

He settled his back more firmly against the packed earth - and when, exactly, had they moved to laying down, anyway? - and let his hands start their own mission of exploration. Cloud was the closest, so he studied him first, learning the texture of his skin, discovering that it was softer under his vest than outside of it, and that trailing his fingers over the boy’s stomach made him snicker.

Stroking his collarbone made him shiver and gasp and got Vincent a very interesting kiss.

He was so involved in it that he didn’t realize when the skin under his fingers changed, became the soft, much-washed cotton of Cid’s shirt. Unfazed, he continued with an exploration of this new body, slender fingers discovering that Cid’s shoulders were wider than Cloud’s, but his skin was rougher, the result of years spent baking in the desert sun of Rocket Town.

Vincent decided that he liked the difference.

He also rather liked the way Cid’s strong hands were sliding up under his own shirt, searching out his nipples and fondling them until they were two stiff little peaks. He made a soft sound into the kiss he was still sharing with Cloud, arching his back slightly to press closer to those clever fingers.

Cid made a sound of approval, then Cloud was gasping loudly into the kiss. Vincent turned his head slightly, ruby eyes slanting down to watch as Cid’s strong hand moved over the front of Cloud’s tight pants, cupping and squeezing him through the material. Cid’s other hand was sliding down Vincent’s own stomach until it was copying the action on him, making his eyes go impossibly wide and jerk away from the erotic sight. They met Cid’s amused, unrepentant blue eyes.

“Could watch you two all day,” the pilot said hoarsely, “look good enough to eat. Just gotta decide which treat I want first.”

Vincent was puzzled by the remark, but Cloud moaned deep in his throat and reluctantly parted from the kiss. “Toss you for him?” he offered.

Cid snickered. “Nope, don’t think so. Think I’ll just do it this way.” He darted forward, knocking Cloud over to sprawl on his back, and had his pants open and his face between his legs before he or Vincent could even think of moving. Cloud howled with delight and spread his legs wider, his hands fisting in Cid’s short hair.

Vincent stared.

He’d never even imagined such a thing - of course, he’d never much thought about sex at all, but this... and it certainly looked like Cloud was enjoying himself.  Arching his back, and whimpering, his hips thrusting helplessly until Cid held him down.

Vincent couldn’t resist moving closer, gazing raptly at Cid’s mouth, lips stretched around Cloud’s shaft, swallowing him down until his nose was buried in soft blond curls.

Cid’s hand shot out suddenly, grabbing him and yanking him close. He lifted his mouth, grinning at Cloud’s protest. “He tastes good, Val. Wanna try?”

Vincent stared at him for a moment, then looked at Cloud’s desperate expression. Red eyes turned back to the angry red cock, slick with precome and saliva, and the pearly drop just bubbling at the tip. Without thinking, he leaned down and slid his tongue over the head, gathering up that bit of fluid.

Cloud nearly screamed, reaching down to wind his fingers in long, black hair this time. “Please,” he begged softly, “oh, Vincent, please...”

“Asks nice, don’t he?” Cid whispered in Vincent’s ear. “Don’t worry, it’s not hard. Do whatever you think will feel good - he’ll like anything right now.”

Vincent bit his lip. He could do this. The strange, salty taste on his tongue was interesting; he wanted to try it again. He bent his head and carefully fitted his mouth around the head of Cloud’s cock. That odd flavor exploded in his mouth. He glanced up through the black bangs falling in his eyes to judge Cloud’s reaction. Stormy blue eyes stared down at him, and slender fingers drifted through his hair, pushing his bangs back so Cloud could get a better view.

“Vincent...” he whispered, almost sobbing, “please, oh thank you, but please, move... do something...”

Vincent gave him a slow, very slow blink, then turned his attention back to what he was doing.  He let his mouth slip down a bit farther, following the instinct to suck, and heard Cloud start moaning again.

Hmm, must be doing something right.

He continued to explore Cloud with his lips and tongue, tasting that flavor and discovering the satiny texture of delicate skin. A weight settled over him, Cid leaning over his back. Strong hands grasped his shoulders, then slid off the shirt that he hadn’t realized was unbuttoned. Cid’s hands and mouth started moving over his back, whispering words against his skin, how pretty he was, how good he tasted, that Cid loved him.

Loved him?!

Those words surprised Vincent so much that he swallowed several more inches of Cloud’s shaft without even realizing it. That caused Cloud to start babbling, as well, and Vincent heard those words again.

Those words that no one had ever said to him before.

They loved him? Both of them?

Vincent wasn’t sure he believed it - but he wasn’t going to stop now. He continued with his exploring, pressing his tongue against the vein on the bottom of Cloud’s cock and sliding his mouth up and down like Cid had been earlier. He discovered the reason for holding those hips down when Cloud bucked and nearly strangled him, giving a shout of delight.

Loved him... did he love them? He thought about the way he’d felt for Lucretia, so long ago.  Wanted to be near her, to touch her, to protect her from any harm. Didn’t want to live without her.

If that was love, then... maybe he loved them. If he didn’t, he was close to it.

And every touch of work-roughened hands, ever cry of pleasure was bringing him closer.

Cid’s hands had made short work of his belts, and he was surprised to feel the touch of air as his pants were opened. Air that was immediately cut off as both of Cid’s hands slid inside, cupping him, exploring every bit as eagerly as Vincent was with his mouth. Stroking the length of his shaft, weighing his balls on a broad palm.

“Feel so nice,” Cid whispered, shifting one hand to slide his own pants down, to push Vincent’s down further. He pressed against that now-bare, gorgeous backside and moaned throatily at the contact. “Val - Vincent - gonna let me?”

“Let you what?” Vincent asked softly, not lifting his lips completely from Cloud. His words vibrated against the blond’s skin, making him moan in desperation.

“Let me...” Cid whispered, stroking Vincent’s ass, fingers drifting to the cleft and down, to brush gently over what he was almost certain was a virgin entrance. Ruby eyes jerked around to stare at him for a moment. He kept his fingers gentle, stroking, barely pressing the tip of one inside.  “Won’t hurt you. Promise. Do my best not to ever hurt you. Either of you. Please let me?”

Vincent gazed at him a few seconds longer, one hand idly stroking the writhing blond beneath him. Then he nodded once, and turned back to swallow Cloud down again.

 

  
*

 

  
Cid grinned broadly, snatching up his discarded jeans and fumbling the lube free from a pocket.  He hadn’t been sure Vincent would agree; he had been more than willing to let the gunfighter top him, knew Cloud would be, too - but this was gonna be a dream come true and damn if he wasn’t going to do it right!

He got the small tube open and coated his fingers thickly, moving back to drape himself over Vincent. He let his hand slide back into position, carefully stroking him, letting that one fingertip push back inside while he bent his head far enough to peer over Vincent’s shoulder. The sight of Vinnie giving Cloud a cautious blow-job was just too good to miss.

Between what he was seeing, what he was feeling, and what his hands were up to, he didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused in his entire life.

He kept watching, occasionally reaching up to prevent Cloud’s climax until Vincent realized what he was doing. “Want us all to come together,” Cid whispered, ignoring Cloud’s whimper at the words, and Vincent gave another short nod and took over, carefully squeezing the base of Cloud’s erection when he thought the blond was about to come.

Cid snickered. He’d never known Cloud knew such naughty words.

He had a finger inside Vincent now, worked in slowly and carefully, running his other hand soothingly over the man’s back when he tensed. He slid another finger in, stretching him slowly, careful not to touch his prostate yet. He occasionally slid his free hand under the taller man, making sure he didn’t come yet either.

He could have used the help, himself - Vincent was so tight and so warm, much like Cloud had been the other night. The memory of how good that had felt wasn’t helping him now. He bit his lip and moved another finger into Vincent’s tight channel, soothing him again when he went tense and still.

It was several more minutes before he finally had Vincent as prepared as it was possible to get him. The knowledge that there would be as little pain as possible soothed his sudden nervousness, and he quickly covered himself with lube and moved into position.

“Ready?” he asked hoarsely, helpless to stop the pleading tone of his voice.

Vincent’s answer was to shift minutely, spreading his legs just a little wider.

Cid had to stop himself from coming at that, squeezing his hand hard around his cock. Damn, but this wasn’t going to last long. Cloud was starting to turn purple; the only one who was still calm was Vincent.

Time to see if he could break that calmness.

He shifted his own hips slightly, pushed forward and had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as the head of his cock sank into unbelievable heat. Vincent was like a furnace inside, much hotter than his silky cool skin had led Cid to expect. Much hotter than he’d felt around his fingers, and he’d marveled at the warmness, then. He wondered if the inside of his mouth was as warm - it would certainly explain the total bliss on Cloud’s face, if it was.

Beneath him, Vincent made a soft keening noise and tensed slightly at the new sensation. Cid found himself murmuring again, wordless sounds of comfort and calm. He ran his hands over the tight muscles of the gunman’s back, soothing him gently, until the beautiful body relaxed again.

He pushed forward slowly, rocking his hips, sliding in inch by inch and stopping every time Vincent went the slightest bit still. It seemed to take forever before he was fully inside, balls pressed tight against his new lover, but hell and damnation if it wasn’t the best bit of eternity in his life. Not only the mind-shattering sensations, but having Vincent under him, knowing he was safe, to be able to see Cloud’s rapturous expression over his ghost-white shoulder and know that  
he was safe, too. That they were here with him and that he never had to let them go again.

Would never ever let them go again.

He stayed still for several long moments, letting Val adjust. He entertained himself by running his hands over him, playing with his nipples and stroking his cock, reaching up to tease at Cloud’s thighs and balls and laughing at the babble of words that action got.

Vincent looked over his shoulder at him, red eyes wide.

“What?” Cid asked softly, worried that he’d decided he didn’t like this after all.

“I can feel you... I can feel you laughing, inside me...” The quiet words were almost stunned.

Cid grinned happily. “You need a little laughter inside you, Val.” He chuckled again at the scowl the nickname got, then decided he’d been still long enough and began to rock gently.

 

  
*

 

Vincent gasped, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight. He’d never imagined that anything could feel so - so intimate. He’d been starved for touch all his life; never realized how much he craved even the brush of someone’s skin.

“Vinnnnceeenttt....” it was a desperate wail, pulling his attention back to Cloud. He gasped for air, knowing he should be taking care of the boy beneath him but he just couldn’t concentrate on anything except the huge cock inside him. Gods above, how big was Cid?! He felt enormous.

“Vincent... pleeeeease!”

The second plea pulled his attention back; he hesitated, then decided Cloud had suffered enough and he needed to finish him while he could still think a little. He dropped his head and swallowed the boy whole, suckling hard.

Cloud screamed, arched, and then Vincent’s mouth was full of something hot, slick and salty.  He swallowed instinctively, then let the softening shaft slide out of his mouth and licked his lips.

Cloud was staring at him with glazed blue eyes, blinking lazily. “Thanks,” he murmured, and Vincent smiled at him, feeling suddenly shy.

He didn’t feel that way for long; Cid’s cock brushed against something inside him that made fireworks go off in his head and he gasped, automatically pushing back, trying to feel that again.

“Liked that, huh?” Cid purred in his ear, wrapping brawny arms around him and thrusting harder.  “Thought you would. Gonna make you scream, Beautiful, you just wait and see.” He lifted Vincent up until the man was almost sitting in his lap.

Vincent gasped again, slightly louder, as Cid went impossibly deeper inside him. His head fell back, black hair cascading over Cid’s wide shoulder, tumbling down his back and chest, both.

“Love this stuff,” Cid lifted a hand from playing with Val’s nipples to stroke the silky mass.  “Always have.” He braced his knees more firmly against the ground and thrust up harder, aiming for Vincent’s prostate again. “C’mon, Vinnie - swear I’m gonna make you scream!”

“I’ll help,” Cloud said suddenly, darting forward and nearly inhaling Vincent’s shaft.

The sudden wet heat very nearly did make Vincent scream, but he forced it back to only a choked cry; a lifetime’s training and Hojo’s torture-enforced rules of silence too deeply ingrained for him to completely let go.

Cloud and Cid seemed to know what they were up against - both men doubled their efforts, worshiping the slim, lithe body with the devotion of fanatics.

Vincent writhed between them, not sure if he wanted to thrust forward into the incredible warmth of Cloud’s wicked mouth or push back onto the equally amazing feeling of the hardness that was spreading him open.

His lovers didn’t give him much choice - they kept him trapped between them, pinned like a butterfly on Cid’s shaft while Cloud’s mouth memorized him. He panted and whimpered and finally began to moan softly.

“Better,” Cid rumbled, his voice amused, “much better, but baby, we’re still not stoppin’ ‘til you scream.”

“Never knew you were evil,” Vincent murmured, managing to keep a thread of calmness in his voice.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Cloud said cheerfully from between his thighs. “You two did it to me earlier; it’s your turn now. We’ll attack Cid later - wanna tie him up?”

“Yes,” Vincent nodded.

Cid stared at them, then guffawed, his hips never losing their rhythm. “Never figured you for kinky, Val.”

“Never ‘figured’ you for inane pet names,” Vincent shot back.

Cloud snickered, successfully distracting Vincent when the noise vibrated against his skin. He went back to moaning.

“That worked pretty good,” Cid said calmly, watching Cloud with just as much enjoyment as he got out of watching Vincent. “Do something like that again.”

Cloud’s blue eyes flicked up, looking questioning, then he smiled slightly.

And started humming.

Vincent didn’t scream, but he did come.

Hard.

So hard that he thought he would break, and every muscle on his lean body stood out like a sculptor’s carving, his head still flung back and his mouth open. A long, thin whine worked its way out of his throat and he had no idea how, because he certainly couldn’t breathe...

Behind him, Cid muffled a cry in the waterfall of black hair, his arms closing convulsively around the slender man as he climaxed inside that fever-hot channel.

 

  
*

 

  
Cloud sat licking his lips, gazing happily at the sleepy man in Cid’s arms.  Just a few weeks ago, he would never have imagined this - that he would be with Vincent, the beautiful man that he'd wanted, even if he'd never consciously admitted it, since he'd emerged from that coffin like a creature from a fantasy vid.  Or possibly, like a lovely vampire from a horror vid, and Cloud felt just like the maiden stupid enough to be overwhelmed by its beauty and offer up her throat.  And now he had him - could touch him, could... could  _suck_ him, could have his own cock in that incredibly, abnormally hot mouth, maybe someday would be allowed to top him.  

Was allowed to love him.

Cid, too - the pilot he'd admired and secretly wanted to be like - wanted that confident swagger, that daredevil grin.  And now he knew the feel of Cid's hands on him, the weight of Cid on top of him, the hard heat of him, pushing inside.  Was allowed to feel safe in his big, rough arms and to feel burning protectiveness over him, as well.  Could  _love_ him, and not be scoffed at for it.

Cloud squirmed a little at the mushy turn of his thoughts - he'd not be admitted to those any time soon but they were so nice to have, to tuck away in his heart and bring them out to dwell on later.  For now, he had things to talk about.

“That was fun.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t make him scream.”

“That’s all right. Gives us the chance to try again.”

“Hey, you’re right! Good point!”

Vincent cracked open a blood red eye and managed to glare at both of them. “It’s Cid’s turn next.”

“True,” Cloud agreed, nodding.

“Hey, s’not like I’m gonna argue with ya! Lookin’ forward to it!”

Cloud smiled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hey, Blondie, use words I understand!”

Cloud smiled again. “No, I don’t want to. Do you think we should go back to Rocket Town now?”

“Guess so. Be nice to sleep in a real bed. Hell, be nice to have some more fun in a real bed instead of on the dusty ground outside of a burning building.”

“You two picked the place,” Vincent commented, without opening his eyes again.

“Yeah, but our first time was definitely unique, Vinnie-Val,” Cid teased.

Vincent growled softly, but still didn’t open his eyes.

“You think Shera listened to you and left?” Cloud asked softly.

“Probably not,” Cid snarled, holding Vincent a little closer. “Woman’s livin’ in her own little dream-world. Probably didn’t even hear us threaten her.”

“Why did you threaten Shera?” Vincent asked, puzzled, his voice muffled since Cid was pressing his face against his own newly-replaced t-shirt.

“Shera’s the one who gassed us, and put you... in the mansion,” Cloud told him.

Vincent shuddered. “Why?”

“I think she saw us through the window, when we were gettin’ to know each other a little better,” Cid said, torn between growling and leering. “She’s damn well jealous; she’d blow up the Highwind, if she could get away with it, ‘cause I spend so much time flyin’ it and workin’ on it.  Don’t surprise me that she tried to get rid of you. Would have done the same with Cloud, I bet, if Tifa hadn’t been there.”

“Tifa, too?” Vincent’s smothered voice sounded a little sad.

“I don’t think she knew what Shera was planning to do,” Cloud said slowly, “but she shouldn’t have been following us and she shouldn’t have let Shera take you. Either of you. So I’m damn mad at her. What are we going to do if Shera’s lurking at your house when we get back?”

“Toss her out on her ass, change the locks, install a security system, fire her, tell everyone in town what she did, run her out on a rail. Maybe tar an’ feather her, too, I dunno.”

Cloud and Vincent were both snickering at him; Cid scowled. “Not funny.”

“You’ve got a whole list!” Cloud laughed.

“I like to be organized,” Cid said with a sniff.

Cloud laughed out loud at that; Vincent was doing some suspicious trembling of his own.

“S’not funny. I do wanna go home, though - we’ll just swing by and get Cloud’s stuff and clear out your shack, Vince. Should be done by evening.”

“All right,” Cloud agreed, and Vincent nodded.

 

*

 

They all got up and headed for the airship. Cloud and Cid stopped for a moment to retrieve their bags. Vincent took the opportunity to stand and just watch the flames for a moment. He felt - strange, like he was watching his past, with all its torments and mistakes, burn away. Leaving him feeling strangely free, and whole.

At least for now.

And if he did slide back into his depression... He glanced at Cid and Cloud, who were arguing over who was going to get to tell Shera off first, and smiled softly.

They wouldn’t leave him in the dark for long.

He could stop yearning for the sweet sleep that he had once felt he could only earn through death.

For the first time since his childhood, he wanted to try life.

For now, resting could wait.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's that! Sorry it took so long - I forgot about the last chapter O_o


End file.
